Please Stay
by EmpressVL
Summary: This story picks up at the scene in which Josie Mardle and Florian Dupont meet in her home's foyer at the end of the Season Two finale of Mr Selfridge. I found myself wondering what might happen next - and this is what came to me.


"Please stay." She paused, looking right into his eyes. "Please."

For a moment, she stood perfectly still. Then her right hand clenched, betraying her anxiety. Her smile did not hide her uncertainty at all, Florian thought. He lowered his case slowly to the floor, never taking his eyes off her face. Then – and he could never say later how it happened, or who moved first – they were once again in each other's arms, kissing as if they might never have another chance to show their feelings for one another.

He felt the same melting sensation he always did when Josie and he kissed, as though his body were not quite solid. Lifting his mouth from hers, he looked down into her blue eyes.

"I love you, Josie," he said simply. "Even though you break my heart."

She looked away from him, distressed.

"I'm so very sorry, Florian. I wouldn't hurt you for the world. Please forgive me."

Before he could answer, the front door opened and Agnes stepped through, followed closely by Henri LeClair. Agnes stopped short when she saw the pair, and Henri cannoned into her from behind, reflexively grabbing her shoulders so she would not fall. Thus locked together, both stumbled forward until Agnes stopped their momentum by sticking out one foot and shoving backwards. It looked like a perfectly rehearsed pratfall from one of Miss Mabel Normand's comedies.

After her emotional day, the sight struck Josie as terribly funny. Even as Agnes stammered something – Josie had no idea what the poor girl was actually saying – Josie found herself laughing, then apologizing for laughing before lapsing into giggles again. She could feel Florian, his arm still tight around her shoulders, shaking with amusement as well. Meanwhile, Henri gave them a calculating, but not unsympathetic, gaze. Funny, Josie thought, how a man could seem so very French without even opening his mouth.

Henri patted Agnes on her shoulder.

"We apologize for interrupting your … téte à téte," Henri said.

"No, not at all, you interrupted nothing," Josie began.

"That was not nothing," Henri replied, raising an eyebrow.

"It was quite definitely something," Florian said, and kissed Josie's cheek to emphasize the point.

Josie felt herself stiffen at this show of affection, then exhaled deeply, willing herself to relax. She had to stop reacting to her relationship with Florian as she had to the affair with Roger. She had no need to hide anymore. And no one would wish them happiness more so than Agnes and Henri.

Agnes by now had recovered her composure.

"It looks like we all have some news to share," she said. "Shall we talk about things over tea?"

"Wine would be better," Henri said dryly.

Florian laughed and said something in French that made Henri chuckle. Josie looked at him quizzically, then decided refreshments would do them all some good. She caught Agnes' eye and the two women shooed the men into the drawing room and strode down the hall. As soon as they were out of earshot, Agnes grabbed Josie's wrist.

"How long has this been going on?" she whispered.

"A little while."

Agnes nodded. "I saw the way he looked at you, and wondered once or twice, but you always seemed so … so … in control."

Josie half-smiled.

"My dear, I'm quite good at covering my feelings at this point in my life. I see no reason to let the world know what's in my head or my heart."

"I know," Agnes said. "I admire that about you. I try and try, but I can't keep anything hidden. My face always gives me away."

"There's nothing wrong with having an honest and open heart, my dear," Josie said. "It must be rather lovely, never having secrets. I envy that about _you_."

Entering the kitchen, Josie ordered a quick tea from the cook and turned to make her way back down the hall.

"And you?" Josie asked. "Is it M. LeClair after all, then?"

Agnes felt the color rise to her cheeks and nodded.

"Victor released me from our engagement. He said to go to Henri, and to be happy."

Josie smiled again.

"I think you will be. He will not be an easy man to live with sometimes, I fear. But you are both passionate people, and passionate about the same things. It will be a happy life."

With that, they walked into the drawing room, where the two men were still talking. Florian's expression struck Josie at once. Speaking his native language, no longer fumbling for the correct phrases, Florian looked confident and at ease. She suddenly realized he was not as young as he sometimes seemed.

Upon their arrival, both men stood. Agnes made for her favorite chair while Josie sat down on the settee, beside Florian.

Henri broke the silence.

"Tell us!"

Josie, not expecting such a direct approach, cast her eyes down, but Florian answered easily.

"I just tell you about how I got here, but not about what happened next, and that is where _our _story, Josie's and my story, begins." He smiled warmly at Josie, taking her hand. "I stand on the front step, so nervous to learn what sort of people I will stay with, and will I make a good impression? And then the door opens and there is Josie. She is … what is the word? … startled. I can see that, but I am not sure why. But she shakes my hand and opens the door wider to let me in. When I look into her eyes, I know right away that she is a kind woman with a good heart. And even though my own heart is heavy and sick and dark, just meeting her and shaking her hand gives me comfort."

Hearing this, Josie's face softened into a tender smile.

"And then I meet Miss Towler, and she also has kind eyes, and I know that I am in a happy home. I can relax a little bit, for the first time in many weeks."

"I felt the same way when I arrived here," Agnes said. "It's like a safe harbor."

"Precisely," Florian said, beaming at her for understanding. "Since I am a stranger, I spend much time watching the people around me and trying to learn more English. It is very bewildering, the English!"

Henri laughed and said something in French. Florian nodded.

"Yes, it is even less logical than French! I did not know such a thing was possible! Every day, I study until my head aches. And then Miss Mardle – Josie," and he smiled with pleasure at saying her first name aloud, "comes home every night and I practice my English with her and Miss Towler. One night, she asks me about myself and I tell her about my music, my violin. And _voila_! Soon she brings me a violin. I do not even know what to say. Even though I have no music in my soul anymore, even though I don't dare touch the bow, I can feel Josie urging me to try. And finally, I pick up the instrument and I feel the music rush back into me." He sighed lightly. "And that is when I know I love her."

He turned his head to Josie, and smiled again.

"She gave me back a part of me I thought was gone forever. How can I not love her?"

"Perhaps it was simple gratitude," Josie said.

"Always you try to explain my feelings to me, Josie!" Florian said, but without heat. "Perhaps gratitude played a part, but I watch you carefully each day. I see the kindness you bring to all that you do. I see your concern for me, for Miss Towler and her brother, for your servants. I watch how you sing along at the variety show and the benefit concert, enjoying the music so much! I see how your spirit shines. And I say again: how can I not love you?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

"And you, Miss Mardle? What do you have to say?" Henri asked.

"I can answer one question right now," she said, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. "I was startled because I expected a woman, not a man! Especially a handsome young gentleman that looked as though he had just stepped out of the pages of a romantic novel. I hardly knew what to do, but I did know I could not turn him away. So I let him in, and resolved to find him other lodgings as soon as possible, but no one seemed to be able to accommodate him. And then, as the days passed … well, frankly, I enjoyed having a gentleman around the house!"

Henri nodded. "_Vive la difference_."

"Yes," Josie said. "I know very little French, but I do know that phrase! At first, of course, I felt dreadfully sorry for him, losing his family and his home in such a terrible way. But over time, I grew more and more interested in Florian as a person in his own right. And once he played the violin for me, I knew I could never send him away. He might walk away on his own, and I fully expect – expected – him to, but I would not and could not ask him to go."

Florian squeezed her hand.

A soft knock announced the arrival of tea. The activity gave Josie a much-needed respite. She could not ever recall revealing so much of her emotions to anyone before, and Florian's account of his experiences had moved her as well. It was all quite exhausting.

"And you?" Josie asked after a sip of tea. "Clearly the two of you have had quite an eventful day as well."

Agnes and Henri exchanged a look.

"We haven't much time, as I am leaving tomorrow to go to France to fight. The long and short of it is that we love each other, and I will come back as soon as the war is over. One hopes that day will come sooner rather than later."

He looked once more at Agnes. "We will finish our tea, and then we must be off. I have certain things I wish to leave with you until I can come back."

"Shall I arrange for a carriage?" Josie asked.

"No, no, it is just a few small things. Sentimental, mostly, but important to me."

Josie smiled at him. "I understand completely, M. Leclair. Sometimes, the smallest things mean the most."

"Very true. And please, call me Henri."

"Very well, Henri. Another bun?"

He shook his head and looked once more at Agnes, who had just swallowed the final bite of a sandwich. "I am sorry to rush you, but we have very little time. Or would you rather stay here and I will send my things?"

Shaking her head, she rose. "Oh, no, I'll come along. I could do with a walk, and ... I may not see you again for a long time. Of course I'll come."

The two bustled out, leaving Florian and Josie to finish the tea themselves. She sighed as she sank once more onto the settee.

"One more cup," she said. "Then to bed, I think. It has been a very long day."

"Shall I play for you?"

"Oh, that sounds lovely! Please."

"Your wish is my command."

"You found the Arabian Nights storybook, didn't you?" she smiled, teasing him.

He smiled back as he tested the violin's tuning.

"I found it weeks ago! It is a good book. Of course I read it many times as a boy, but not in English of course. It helped to read something I already knew in French. My headache that day was not too bad!"

"You should have told me about the headaches," Josie said. "I would have given you something."

Florian ran the bow over the strings experimentally and smiled.

"Josie, I can find an aspirin for myself! I like that you care for me, but you do not have to act like my mother. I have a mother. I do not need a second one."

"I know," she said, feeling a little lost. "I just like to do things for you. Perhaps it's my way of showing how much I care."

Placing the violin on the table, Florian sat down next to her, his arm around her shoulders, his eyes on hers.

"Sometimes it will be hard for us. I speak French and a little English. You speak English and a few words of French. I am a man. You are a woman. I speak my mind as soon as I have a thought, and you hide your thoughts and feelings so well that nobody can find them! I have my ideas of how we should be and you have yours." He paused, considering. "It is as you said the night we first kissed. We are very different, you and I; we come from different worlds. Perhaps you and I will have to create a new language, a new way to speak to one another."

He smiled into her eyes. "But first, I will play for you."

He stood, picked up the violin and bow, and half-closed his eyes in concentration. Josie relaxed into the cushions as the first notes played. He started with her favorite Chopin piece, then modulated into something romantic that she could not quite place. Debussy? No. Abandoning this analysis, she let the sound wash over her, gazing up at Florian as he played. After the final, sweet, sustained note, she sighed.

"That was quite beautiful! I did not recognize it, though – what is it?"

Florian's mouth quirked into a smile.

"I call it _'Ma chere Josie.'_"

Eyes wide, she sat straight up.

"You wrote that?"

"Yes."

"For me?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"The idea came a few days after you gave me the violin. I have been perfecting it in my head ever since."

"But it's wonderful!"

"Thank you. I am glad you like it."

"I just can't believe you wrote such a lovely thing for _me_."

She stood and stepped toward him. He placed the violin once more on the table and turned, arms open to receive her. As she pressed herself against his solid warmth, the emotions of the past few weeks overwhelmed Josie.

"I'm so sorry," she said when she could speak again. She raised her head and was surprised to find tears running down his face. "Oh, dear! I didn't mean to make you cry, too."

He smiled and wiped the tears from her cheek.

"_Ma chere_ Josie. We have laughed together. We have loved together. And now we cry together. This is as it should be."

She regarded him for a long moment then moved out of their embrace and took his hand.

"It has been a long day, _ma cher_ Florian. I do believe it's time to go upstairs to bed. If you want to, of course."

He laughed softly.

"I cannot imagine the day when I would say no to such an offer! But I must know something first."

"What?"

"Josie, I have said many times that I love you, but you have never said it to me. I understand that you may not feel the same way – yet – but I prefer to know the truth. Josie – do you love me?"

She moved toward him, placing her hands around his jaw just as she had the second time they kissed, and half-smiling in that way he adored.

"Yes," she said after a long pause. "Yes, Florian. I love you."

"Then let us go upstairs to bed," he said, offering her his arm. "It _has_ been a very long day."


End file.
